Cure For Insomnia
by talkofcake
Summary: Will thinks that he may have found a cure to his insomnia. Helen/Will, brief 'Nubbins' reference.


"Cure For Insomnia"  
by loveandbullets

* * *

It started with a look. A heated, smoldering look that radiated across the expanse of the couch.

She would have blamed the Nubbins, for the incident was so similar to one those creatures had caused weeks ago, but there would be no logic in that conclusion whatsoever. So as she leaned across the space between them and closed it with the warmth of her lips pressed against his, and as a gentle kiss became a desperate movement of hungry mouths tangled together, Helen had nothing to blame but her own poor judgment.

And lack of a proper sex life for nearly a decade, not that anyone was counting.

Guilt warmed her when she awoke the next morning, early - too early - and saw his sleeping form snoring soundly, hair mussed and tussled from sleep. Before the temptation to run her fingers through it overcame her, she pushed the covers back and let the soles of her feet touch the cold floor beneath. She dressed quietly and left her mistake behind within the darkened bedroom.

She lost herself in her work, as she usually did.

A cup of tea, a slice of toast, paperwork, and the rising sun did well to help her forget most of what she didn't want to remember.

Until he walked into her office a few hours later wearing a hesitant look plastered to his face.

He approached her desk slowly, but she didn't look up. Finally, by the time he'd seated himself across from her and slumped back into the chair did she gather the strength to look up at him and smile as sweetly as she could.

"Good morning," she said quietly, letting her smile linger a bit longer than necessary before she returned her attention back to the paperwork on her desk.

"Morning," he replied coolly, although his expression still betrayed him. A moment of silence passed between them as she worked and he studied some random fixture on the wall that had never quite been interesting to him before that moment in time.

A clear of a throat, an awkward shift in his seat, and she looked up at him once again with raised brows.

"Can we _not_ make this awkward?" he asked.

She withdrew her head a bit and narrowed her eyes. "I'm not making this awkward, are you making this awkward?" she asked quickly. Too quickly.

She was surprised to hear him chuckle.

"You _were_ the one who left."

"I had work to do."

"Before four in the morning?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," she replied sternly, dropping her pen and crossing her arms defensively across her chest. "If you recall, I don't usually sleep."

"You were sleeping pretty soundly after--"

"Will, for God's sakes. I'm sorry! I'm sorry any of this happened," she said finally. She looked at him, again surprised but this time to find he looked almost hurt.

There was a pause, and then, "You are?"

Words seemed to hinge in her throat as her mind raced to figure out what in bloody hell was going on.

"You're not?"

"Well...no, honestly." He looked hurt again, his lower lip protruding from his mouth ever the slightest in a similar way that had caused her to quite literally pounce him the previous night.

Helen sighed, closed her eyes, and shook her head, pushing away those memories and feelings.

"Will, what happened last night was enjoyable, yes, but the truth is, it never should have happened."

She studied his face carefully as he studied hers. His posture tensed, and the hurt she had previously seen lingering in his eyes grew to something much more bitter. It startled her.

"I get it," he said, forcing himself to smile and shake his head as if unaffected by her implications. "I was just in the right place at the right time. An opportunity to satisfy your needs."

"Will, please."

"It didn't _mean anything_," he continued with a mock smile.

"I'm sorry," she repeated under her breath, looking down.

"Me too."

He stood up, pushed the chair in, and walked towards the door.

"Will," she called after him, voice not demanding but most-definitely pleading.

But he didn't turn around, didn't acknowledge her, simply left the issue at hand in the room behind him, much like she had earlier that morning, which is why she took a deep breath and chose not to pursue.

* * *

Besides interaction while on the job, though even that was minimal, the two seemed to be doing awfully well at avoiding the other. Personal conversations grew extinct, friendly smiles evolved into the occasional upturn of the mouth, but what bothered her most of all was the tension in the air whenever they were in the same room.

Her comments became bold and laced with sarcasm, and even after 157 years of practicing self-restraint (her father too often had told her to 'hold her tongue'), the comments would slip out without hesitation. Shockingly, she felt immensely satisfied by the angered response that bubbled up inside of him each time. The pleasure she found in his annoyance scared her.

She comforted herself in realizing she was not the only one showing poor behavior. His usual cheeky remarks had grown chiding and borderline inappropriate at times. Perhaps to Ashley or Henry, or any common observer of their exchanges, this did not seem to be the case. A stab at her age or the fact she never seemed to sleep was nothing out of ordinary, but there was now a gleam in his eye and a bitterness in his voice that sent a shiver down her spine.

And she liked it, which scared her even more.

Then on a cloudy evening, a good book in hand as the fire crackled and snapped, bursts of sparks dancing into the cool air every so often and dying seconds later, he entered her office and sat at the opposite end of the couch. The familiarity of the situation caused her to frown, because the couch, after all, was where it had all began.

She refused to look at him even though she could feel his eyes burning through her at a temperature perhaps even hotter than the twisting flames themselves.

"Good book?" he asked casually.

"It is," she replied, still refusing to peel her eyes away from the words below her.

"What's it about?"

She should have been annoyed. She _was_ trying to read.

"It's a mystery, about a young girl who tries to solve the death of her parents because the authorities have discarded the case."

She still refused to look at him and pretended to continue reading. She was mad at him after all, which she thought was good reason not to acknowledge him properly. But why was she mad at him again?

"So...how have you been lately?"

"Why?"

"What, can't I ask that?"

"_Why_?"

"_Why_ don't you just answer me?"

She tightened her face and put her book down in her lap with a slowness that defied her expression, suddenly reminded of why she was upset with him to begin with. He was so damn pesky, always curious, went head to head with her when anyone else would have instantly backed down. He was so obstinate.

These were also all reasons why he'd caught her eye to begin with, she realized.

Looking across the few feet between them she tried to study his eyes. While she was merely the doctor and the profiler of the team was sitting on the opposite end of the couch, she didn't have too hard a time distinguishing many of the different emotions pent up inside of him. It was the hurt that continued to stick out at her the most, however.

"I've been fine. Quite busy this week, but fine. And yourself, Will?"

"Was that so hard?" he asked, the slightest of laughs escaping and disguised in his exhale. He pondered her question for a moment before nodding and replying, "Fine too, I guess. I haven't been sleeping well though."

"I could give you something for that," she offered, the first genuine comment to him in a week escaping from her mouth. She hated the idea of his vivid nightmares causing him to toss and turn, plaguing him.

He shook his head but smiled. "No thanks. This happens, I just need to fight it off. Besides, I've seen so many pill bottles over the years for this, I've probably built up an immunity to any sort of sleeping meds."

"Anything you'd like to talk about?" Again, a genuine comment. She cursed herself for breaking so easily.

"It's the same as always," he said, leaning his head back against the sofa and crossing his arms.

He didn't need to explain any further. She was well aware of what monsters exactly haunted him at night.

Glancing down thoughtfully, she studied her book and shut it, putting it aside and settling herself more comfortably into her seat. Head still relaxed into the back of the couch, he glanced sideways at her with a surprisingly peaceful smile.

"I missed this."

His words took her off-guard, partly because she never expected him to admit something like that and secondly, because she had as well.

"Me too," she said before she could stop herself, and when it seemed she had lost all control, a smile, a _real_ smile found its way onto her lips. She failed horribly at trying to be mad at him, with those warm eyes and handsome grin and an underlying look that apologized and forgave all at once.

"Will," Helen spoke, breaking the moment of silence, but he waved her off.

"I know."

She chuckled and glanced down, nodding.

"Let's not do this again," he suggested, eyes wandering the ceiling.

She nodded once again. "That sounds like a very good idea."

A moment of complacency, gentle breathing, and comfortable silence. Then, heaving a sigh, he looked at her.

"Come here."

Somehow, his tenor voice was commanding but smooth all at once, and seeing his arms open slightly in a warm invitation, she gave in.

She shifted a bit and lowered her head to his shoulder.

"Perhaps we went about things the wrong way," she said, feeling him nod as he wrapped an arm around her gently.

"Did things a little backwards," he added.

She hummed in agreement and shut her eyes, reveling in the comforting heat of his body and the soft smell of soap and cologne that mixed with the pleasant aroma from the fireplace and lingered in the air around them. They stayed that way for a while longer and listened to the cracking fire until the flames grew low and the hour late.

His hand tangled lazily in her hair, he spoke, voice quiet, "Maybe we should both try to get some sleep tonight."

There was no innuendos in his suggestion, and it made her smile against his shoulder. She sighed happily and pressed her lips softly against his neck before standing and stretching. An extended hand was the only invitation he needed and the only one he'd ever receive.

He was tempted to remind her to put out the fire in a way he so often joked with her, but by the slow, albeit deep kisses and the way she pressed her body against his, he hardly doubted the comment was the least bit necessary.

Following the brief touches that led to more fervent ministrations later that night, Will rolled over and smiled at her sleeping form, feeling himself only minutes away from dozing off himself.

Perhaps there was a cure to both of their insomnia after all, he thought sleepily.


End file.
